


the birds never sing

by caitss



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gambling, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Abuse, Past Suicide Attempt, She tries not to fall in love, Solitude, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, basically she’s a wreck, unhealthy coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitss/pseuds/caitss
Summary: Harukawa hates herself.Some things never change.





	the birds never sing

After another night at the casino, Harukawa stumbles into her apartment and locks the door. 

She is greeted with silence and darkness, so she turns on the light and grimaces. She makes her way into the small kitchen in her apartment and pulls the frigerator open, taking out a beer. It’s apart of her schedule now; go to the casino, head home and waste away on the couch with a glass bottle in hand. Harukawa rests on the couch and opens up the bottle with her teeth as quickly as possible; she needed an escape now. 

When the bottle opens, she lifts it to her lips and drinks the revolting substance, her eyes shut as she swallows down the drink. With her free hand, she turns the TV on and lets whatever’s playing entertain her; she’s likely forget it anyways. The brunette takes a long swig if her alcohol, the only thing along with gambling that keeps her on this world. True, her liver will fail in due time, but everything failed you nowadays. Harukawa finds herself halfway through the bottle when she wonders what she’ll do when her liver does fail.

It’s a loaded thought, so she brushes it away by drowning - yet again - in bitter beer. It always works, when she has problems she can’t run away from. Alcohol was simply an escape, and Harukawa loved to escape situations she wasn’t tough enough for. She eventually looks away from her TV - which was playing some annoying kid’s cartoon - and focuses on the stars outside. It would be nice to get some fresh air. 

So, she stands and stumbles out to the balcony. She finds it funny that apartments have them, but as long as it benefits her, she doesn’t really have an issue. Harukawa rests on the cheap chair that she positioned there over a year ago, when life seemed to be paradise and when alcohol wasn’t her getaway drug. She keeps that away from her mind, too. God, she hates the feeling of nostalgia. 

Over a year ago, she attempted to jump off a bridge at midnight. Someone stopped her, though. By stopping her, she means tackling her to the ground and calling the police. The person, she learned, was a lady named Akamatsu. 

Harukawa hates her. 

She hates her for saving her, for making her live in this ugly, decaying world. She hates her for making her drink all day and escape with gambling and hallucinations. Because Akamatsu wanted a good rep or whatever, Harukawa found herself in a abusive relationship, with scars on her skin and memories of beatings attached to her mind. 

Though, she can’t blame Akamatsu for her abusive relationship, even if she wanted to. Even if she just did a couple seconds ago. Or maybe it was a minute ago, or even longer. Harukawa can’t tell time anymore, only knowing that right now the sky is blue. But it’s always blue - usually - so that doesn’t help at all, does it? She finds herself standing and nearing the edge of the balcony - her beer’s empty, and there she doesn’t see any other way of a escape. Her fingers twitch, and her heart races. She can die, finally, finally- 

Harukawa remembers there’s another beer in the fridge, so she turns away from the edge and trudges over to her stupid kitchen and opens the fridge again. She pulls out a beer again, and realizes this is the last one. She’s going to have to go the store later to buy some more; maybe some string cheese, but that’s about it. She had plenty of food, so she didn’t need anymore. 

She runs a hand through her free hair; she abandoned the scrunchies a long time ago, when she woke up. Harukawa goes back to the balcony again, but she doesn’t sit this time. Instead she leans against the balcony and drinks, the liquid dripping down her chin as she messily tries to escape again. She’s drunk off her mind now, but there’s some sort of bliss knowing that she ran away again, that she drowned in her own despair. 

It’s nice to escape prescription pills and dollar bills sometimes. 

————————————-

The next day, she’s hungover, but it’s routine, so she doesn’t really care. Harukawa gets out of bed rather mechanically, and walks over to the bathroom, ignoring the throbbing in her head. She takes a shower. When she’s finished with scalding hot water burning her skin, she steps out and blow dries her stupidly long hair. After the hour mark, she thinks she should get a haircut. A long time passes when her hair is completely dry, and when it is she still has work to do. She changes into her clothes, and feels like crying as she brushes her teeth after. 

She uses tons of makeup to hide the bags under her eyes and the tired look on her face. Natural looking, but not natural at all. It used to feel like a weight on her face, but now it feels normal and hopeless. Harukawa looks at her hair, and pulls out her curlers, and wraps her hair around them, something that’s completely routine and stupid. She has to look pretty so she can be let into casinos, she has to be pretty so no one suspects her of cutting her arms and chugging alcohol. 

Once she’s finished with her hair, she lets it fall in soft waves, and considers ripping all of it out. She doesn’t, though, because she needs to look nice for the people who think she’s fine and normal. 

————————————-

Harukawa can feel her throat closing in on itself as she heads to the front door, not bothering to tidy up her stupid room. She inhales and responds to Momota’s text, telling him that yes, she is free today and that yes, she’ll meet him at the café right now. She’s surprised at how late she woke up for once; she was always up at 7:00 or 8:00, but today was a day where she got up at 11:00. When she opens the door, she heads out with a face that didn’t show the tired look in her eyes, or the empty feeling in her. 

When she goes home, she forgets about the casino and takes some alcohol out from the fridge, and tries to ignore the disgusting feeling crawling in her stomach. Harukawa takes a swig of her beer - just like she did last night - and tries to process why she feels sick and like she might throw herself off her balcony. Momota had hugged her, and said she looked pretty and all those stupid compliments. He shouldn’t be fucking attracted to her; she can’t give him time of day, he’ll know she’s unhealthy and spends her lifetime drinking and gambling away her savings. 

She doesn’t want to be a couple - she doesn’t want to become like Chabashira and Yumeno, she wants to be alone, so that she can drink alone and when her organs fail, die alone. Harukawa can’t deal with this. She could be overreacting, but what if she wasn’t? What if he wanted a healthy relationship that she can’t even provide for him? Harukawa’s already chosen her fate, she’s been drinking for a while, she can’t turn away now. Maybe she should commit suicide and escape his horrible nightmare; or maybe she should run away and change her name and hair color. 

She could always throw herself off her balcony and break all her bones and die when she hits the ground. It’s something she’s always wanted to do, why not now? It was the perfect kind of escape, the perfect way out. It was easy, it was quick, it was just like chugging her alcohol. 

So why does she find herself unwilling to? Why can’t she die already? Is it because someone likes her and would cry if she died? Is that it? She doesn’t understand, she doesn’t want to. She just wants to throw herself off the god damned balcony and leave this awful race. 

She can’t get the image of Momota crying out of her head. They’ve only known each other for a bit, and he only complimented her a couple of times, so maybe he doesn’t care for her. But there was this stupid feeling in her stomach that seemed to be telling her that she was wrong, that he was going to blame himself. 

It was stupid and silly, but her stomach was always right in this kind of situation. Besides, he had stated that he cared for her once or twice. But it doesn’t matter; she can’t risk this anymore. No one can find out she’s a alcoholic, or that she slices her wrists over the sink just to watch the blood drip down the drain. If they do, they’ll help her, and she can’t go through that again. 

Her body doesn’t move from it’s seat on the sofa. 

Harukawa can’t kill herself, can she? Because now she has to stop him from crying over her. Because now she doesn’t want him sad. Because now she cares for him, too. Her throat goes raw at the realization and her head screams with pain, her heart slams against her ribcage, and she hopes her bones break. Her palms are clammy and sweaty; she feels vomit coming up her throat now. 

She empties her stomach out in the trash can next to the sofa; she always placed the trash can there after she vomited on her floor once. 

She grips the beer bottle - that was still pretty full - and throws it against the wall, screaming as she watches it crack. 

Harukawa’s convinced that the sound of glass cracking was actually her walls, shattering with the slightest touch. 

If she really was in control of her life like she thought she was, she wouldn’t be a wreck and crying over stupid love.

**Author's Note:**

> look what i spent an hour on :^)


End file.
